The Jonas Brothers!

Abra had a real treat last week when the Jonas Brothers came to town. Her dear Aunt Cat is working with the catering crew on the tour, and for the Cleveland concert she came through big time by scoring us backstage passes and tickets for the show!

While Abra is not a faint-at-the-sound-of-their-name fan, she does of course know of them, and know a few songs, and has always been the envy of her friends for all the JoBro flair that Aunt Cat sends her and Thalia from the tour. When I told her Wednesday morning that we had tickets to the show, she was quite excited (and assumed I was joking -- "Mom, is he serious?"). And then when I told her she was actually going to meet the Jonas Brothers, she got very wide-eyed and said "I can't meet them -- they're famous!".

So Thursday afternoon, I ducked out of work a bit early, and around 4:15 we headed down to the arena ("the Q", for you Clevelanders). This would be, of course, Abra's first arena concert ever (a bit of trivia: my first concert was Blue Oyster Cult, with Aldo Nova opening).

Anyway, we got down there and met Aunt Cat, who draped the passes around our necks.


Then Cat took us down and showed us her tour bus:


where Abra had a chance to try lying down in a real live tour bus bunk

Then we walked around the arena for a bit, and during this time we must have met a zillion of Cat's friends and coworkers. They seemed like good folks -- I think she really does like working with that crew. They were all certainly very friendly to Abra and me, even as busy as they were. Here's a shot of the stage layout from high up:

It amazes me how they set that up and break it down all in one day. Those folks work hard!

Then Cat tucked the tickets in my pocket:

Notice one of the numbers on that ticket:

Front row seats!

So after walking around the arena, we went to the JoBro meet-n-greet. (This was held in one of the practice courts at the arena, so I was busy checking out the scuff marks on the wall and trying to figure which ones had been left by LeBron's shoe.) For this, they prepped us with quite a nice spread of food, and I told Abra to knock herself out. She had chips, soda, cake -- and even a little bit of chicken. (I, like many of the other parents, took advantage of the open bar...).

Then it was time to meet the Jonas Brothers. Sadly Nick was tired, and didn't make it, but Joe and Kevin were there. We all lined up to meet them and have our picture taken. The whole time in line, I tried to convince Abra that she didn't want her dumb old dad in the picture, but she was pretty starstruck and wouldn't let go of me. It all happened pretty fast, we got in, I said hi, told them thanks for coming to Cleveland, hoped they were enjoying the wind-down of the tour, we smiled -- click! -- and then we were hustled out. Here's the shot, heh:

(That's Joe on the left and Kevin on the right, and yes I had to look them up on Wikipedia when I got home to figure out which was which....)

After that, we went down to our FIRST ROW seats:

(where I actually was not as waxen as the picture makes it look.) We watched the first of the three opening acts for a while. Cat had given us earplugs for Abra's ears -- this was, without a doubt, the loudest environment she's ever been in -- and she fiddled with them throughout.

Then Cat came by and and we went and had second dinner with her and some of the crew backstage. And that was quite a production, too. In this world of craziness down in the bowels of the big arena, it was like a little oasis. The food was quite good -- complements to the chefs! -- and in fact much better than what was up at the meet-n-greet, I thought. Kitty, what you do is amazing...

Then it was time for the Jonas Brothers to come on. We went back out to our seats, and Abra waited excitedly, waving the lightstick that she had gotten from one of Cat's friends:


And then, up came the Jonas Brothers from under the stage!


And Abra was quite amazed.

It was a lot of fun, and we watched about 45 minutes of the show. We were seated on the aisle, and so for much of the show I had a pack of preteen girls crushing in on me from the aisle, all waving signs and screaming. Abra got in on the action, too, letting out a few screams herself (mostly prompted by all the screaming kids around her, I think...).

Here's Abra with the Jonas Brothers in the background


And here's Kevin, to give a feel for our view:


The show was set to go on until about 10:30, but that was too late for us -- certainly for me! So at about 9:30 I told Abra that it was getting late and we would need to head out soon. She asked to stay longer, but didn't put up too much of a fuss, and indeed by the time we were halfway home, she was getting groggy in the car.

She did wake up when we got home so that she could show Brenna her haul: a program, a tshirt, buttons, stickers, poster, lightsticks, passes, etc, etc. She was truly treated like a queen, thanks so much to Aunt Cat for setting this up, and to her and her friends for taking good care of us.

So that's Abra's first concert: at age 7 she had backstage passes, front row seats, and an opportunity to meet the band. It's all gonna be downhill from here, that poor kid....

Road Trippin', Seven Year Old Style

We took the training wheels off the girls' bikes yesterday, and Abra took to it like nobody's business. We weren't sure how she would do, because she is sometimes a physically risk-averse kid, but maybe she's getting over that (she's turned into a pretty good soccer player for example, and has no problem getting into the scrum).

By the end of the first half-hour of practice (which consisted of either Brenna or me running right behind her, hands on shoulders, correcting the wobbles ["Dad, are you getting exercise?"]), Abra pretty much had the hang of it. She biked down the street on her own, with me about 10 yards behind her, running with my arms held up doing the touchdown sign. There was a good bit of wobbling still, to be sure, but by gosh she had it figured out. Here she is on her training wheel-less bike:



Thalia was doggedly determined, too, but at two years younger she still needs some practice. So we worked with her for a while -- she did manage to go a couple yards on her own -- but she was getting frustrated. So I put the training wheels back on her bike, but raised them up so that she can try and balance without them touching the ground. I suspect she will be ditching the training wheels pretty quickly herself.

Anyway, today I told Abra that as long as she told us, she was cleared to ride to the other end of the block and back, without supervision. And soon enough, it'll be time to let her bike to her friend's house a few blocks away. It's her version of car keys -- she's got freedom to ride.

So as soon as she sped off, I started thinking about blind driveways, and street crossings, and skinned knees, and her out on her own out of sight. And I got my first inkling of what I'm gonna be feeling when she's older and really out on her own -- making her own decisions, dealing with other people, driving cars, dealing with life. She's growing up...

Go get 'em, kid.

A First Time for Everything

So today, for the first time in my 12 years as a professor at CWRU, I went over to the university library and checked out a book.

Now before my librarian mom hits the roof, let me just point out that the Astronomy Library is actually located in the Astronomy Department, literally about three steps from my office door. And I get books from there quite often. And also, astronomy is a very technologically oriented field (and one that's always been way ahead of the curve when it comes to electronic resources), so 95% of my "library activities" take place online (literature searches, journal downloads, database access, etc).

But today, for a class I'm teaching on the process and philosophy of science, I actually needed a book. My first thought was to wonder if I could get it at the public library, then suddenly I remembered we had a library on campus. So I headed over to that big building across Euclid, clutching a printout with the book info on it.

(there are rumored to be books in this building)

When I walked inside, I stopped, looked around for a while in confusion, then headed up the stairs to my favorite librarian's office.

Me: Bill, in this big, fancy library of yours, where are the, uh... well... you know.... the, uh..."

Bill: The books?

Me: Yeah, those things.

Bill (clearly resisting the urge to throw a shoe at me): Upstairs, third floor.

So I found my book, checked it out (another helpful librarian had to show me how to do that), and finally went back to my office to read...

Bedtime Poll

OK, Child #1 has filed a request for a later bedtime. Her bedtime, which has been 8:30 for, oh, forever, is now seen as too early.

Being the skilled parent that I am, my response was "well, I dunno, what is a typical bedtime for a second grader?"

Let's ask the intertubes!

So here's your chance to weigh in:

Overheard at Target

Abra: You don't want any of these bluejeans, Dad? They're on sale!

Me: Well, I don't see any in my size.

Abra: Why don't you ask someone?

Me: I'm a guy, honey, guys don't ask for help.

Abra: So you just drink beer, slap each other on the back, and watch TV?


Yep, pretty much.

Poor Cow

People have been asking how I managed to survive Brazil, and so I figured I'd update.

I traveled with a pack of astronomers (several of whom read this here blog and can chime in if they so desire...), and we all stayed down at a hotel in Copacabana.

Yes, Copacabana. No, I did not see Lola, or Tony, or Rico.

Anyway, the hotel was pretty nice, but of course we were hopping the subway up to the center of Rio and attending the meetings like good astronomers. The meeting was fine, there was interesting stuff going on, but perhaps the most amusing thing was watching hundreds of astronomers go through internet withdrawal when the net in the conference center went down for a whole day.

I did take one afternoon off, and sat out on the beach at Copa. Was pleasant and warm, even though it was of course midwinter down there. I sat on the beach and read a book, and all was fine. Then I went up to the beach bar and ordered a beer and sat down at a table -- and the local beach vendors were on me like flies. I ignored them as best I could, but after a while fled back to the hotel rooftop bar, where there actually was a heck of a view:

(picture courtesy Pat Durrell)

While at the bar, I tried a caipirinha, which is evidently national cocktail of Brazil. A very tasty little drink, kind of like a margarita but w/ cachaça -- a sugarcane alcohol -- instead of tequila. I was impressed. If I could find cachaça up here in the US, I'd be game to mix a few up on a regular basis.

So then that night we went to carnivore heaven, a Brazilian charruscaria called Porcao de Ipanema. Porcao is pronounced "Poor Cow", and I would have to agree, that poor, poor cow. Basically it's an all you can eat meathouse, where they keep coming to your table with meat on a spit, and cut it onto your plate. Beef, chicken, lamb, pork, sausage, you name it. They just move from table to table cutting meat, until you finally flip over the little happy pig tile on your table from a green "feed me" to a red "no mas" symbol (or however you say it in Portugeuse). And on top of that, there is a huge seafood and salad bar -- sushi, shrimp, greens, etc, etc.


To prepare, I had skipped lunch that day, and we walked the two miles to the restaurant. Needless to say, I pigged out. And happily, I'm told that there is a churrascaria here in Cleveland -- The Brasa Grill. I'm looking forward to that!

The next day was our last day -- we were flying out that night -- so we had time to do something touristy. The decision was made to take the cable car to the top of Sugarloaf. (This is the cablecar ride featured in the Bond film Moonraker). That was very cool, and here's a shot (again from Pat) looking up at Sugarloaf:


And then finally, here's a shot of the four of us travelers up on top:

(me, John, Pat, Robin)

(For some reason, I look rather emaciated in that picture. Perhaps I needed to return to Porcao.....)

Anyway, after that it was a long flight back to Atlanta, followed by an flight to Cleveland that got turned back to Atlanta, a long wait, and a second, more successful flight to Cleveland, and then sleep.

Neophobic

So I was driving around last week listening to NPR, and there was a segment about how some biologists were trying to get rid of non-native rats on some distant island. They said it was hard to do, because while they would set out rat poison, rats are by nature "neophobic" and wary and mistrustful of new things (and thus wouldn't eat the new rat poison).

Neophobic. What a great word. That describes me to a T.

This is pretty timely, since tomorrow I head off to Brazil, a country I've never been to, where they speak a language I've never heard, and have a culture I've never experienced. I know, I know, this is the adventure, the excitement of traveling abroad. For me, the night before a foreign trip feels like my last night on death row.

What can I say? I'm neophobic. I'm never thrilled by new trips overseas.

Now, let's be careful here: I'm not xenophobic at all. That is, on my many other trips to other countries, once I've figured out the system, I've had a ball. Australia, Italy, Switzerland, Japan, England, the American South, etc, etc, the list goes on -- all these strange countries have been fun and interesting to me. Once I've figured out the system.

It's just the part of going to them for the first time that stresses me out. Its an environment I do not know. Neophobia. Perfect word. That's me.

Indeed, every time I travel overseas, I think of Steve Martin's great line about trying to make himself understood in Paris: "The French -- it's like they have a different word for everything."

So after hearing this report on NPR, I looked up "neophobia" on the definitive source of all knowledge: Wikipedia. Wikipedia says:

Neophobia is also a common finding in aging animals, although apathy could also explain, or contribute to explain, the lack of exploratory drive systematically observed in aging.

Aging, apathy, whatever. Neophobia is my new word and I'm sticking to it. Heck, at least it keeps me from eating that new rat poison....

(Plus, I'm now mad at Walt for cancelling out of the meeting at the last minute. )